


First Times All Round

by castielslovesong



Series: A Pirates Life For Us [6]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Bad guys, Demons, Destiel - Freeform, Drugs, Emotions, First Fight, First Kiss, Guitar, M/M, Pirate AU, Pirate Dean, Pirates, crowleys an ass, fight, mumford and sons, pirate cas, protective, sword - Freeform, sword fight, the boxer, worthless feelings, worthlessness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-18
Updated: 2014-01-18
Packaged: 2018-01-09 05:20:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,168
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1141948
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/castielslovesong/pseuds/castielslovesong
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Well fuck... Did Cas just- he definitely just kissed my forehead.</p><p>All that I've wanted this whole time is now right in front of me... But I can't. Cas deserves better than, well, me. </p><p>Or maybe I can learn to trust him?</p><p>Get your head out of your ass Winchester, there's a salt and burn, Crowley's involved and that can't mean anything good.</p>
            </blockquote>





	First Times All Round

**Author's Note:**

> Because I was mean, and my lovely readers fed back :3 
> 
> More adventures to come, and more smut me thinks, and yeah the tattoo thing is going to come up soon. 
> 
> Thank you for reading, as always, all feedback is helpful to me, so don't stay silent! I value your opinions friends.
> 
> Peace Out Bitches -xo

He was having another nightmare. Its ferocity was not so intense – wow, that’s fucked up – so he was not fitful in his sleep. A silent part of him was thankful; he had a guest with him now after all. Belatedly, he realised, _Dean you can’t just push the dream out of the way like that_ , he had been playing with his knife when he fell asleep. He hoped he didn’t slit his own throat, as that would probably get him noted for the dumbest death of a sea Captain in the history of time. Nonetheless, he didn’t slit his throat. No, there was the slight scuffle of movement, then something soft on his head.

His eyes opened. He was trapped in ocean deep eyes. _Did Cas just...?_

**_Dude he totally kissed your head._ **

_No way, he was just-_

**_Just what? Checking you for fleas?_ **

Dean coughed. Cas apparently didn’t know what to say... So he didn’t say anything at all.

“Cas I-“

“I can leave.” Looking anywhere but Dean, Castiel backed away from him, his eyes glued to the floor.

“No, Cas wait!” Dean cringed at the desperation in his own voice, but the way Cas’ head snapped up, tears brimming in the corners of his eyes, made it worth it. Cautiously, the men gravitated to one another until there was barely any distance between them; Dean reached out to touch Cas’ shoulder. “Cas... I like you bu-“

Cas pulled away. “You can save the ‘it’s not you it’s me speech’ Dean. I will move below deck. It’s fine.”

Struck by the serious aggression channelled into Cas’ voice, Dean found himself grabbing Cas’ wrist and turning him around. They collided, hip to hip, shoulder to shoulder... Dean’s mouth crashed against Cas’ eliciting a surprised growl from the other man. When Cas’ opened up, he found himself battling the smoothness of Cas’ tongue and a groan creeping up his throat. Dean didn’t know when, but his eyes had slid shut, and his hands were grasping the sharp angles of Cas’ hips. He needed to stop; he couldn’t do this to Cas. He didn’t _deserve_ Cas.

Pulling away, he smiled sadly when Cas tipped forward, eyes still shut, to reclaim Dean’s lips.

“What I was going to say, Castiel Novak, is I can’t. I’m not good news Cas. You said it yourself, I’m a pirate. People who get close to me, they die Cas.” He turned away, fighting the stinging of his eyes. “I can’t do that to you. I _won’t_ lose you too.” The last admission came out as a whisper. Silence met him. For that, he didn’t know whether to be thankful, relieved or to collapse where he stood.

Hunched over, he felt a hand on his shoulder whipping him around.

“Dean Winchester,” _Oh god_ , he should definitely not be turned on by how deep Cas’ voice just went, because shit, he just met his eyes and they look 1000x brighter in the darkness of the cabin. The candles flickered, but Cas’ stare was unrelenting. His grip was almost painful on both of his shoulders as he pushed him into the wall.

“I have known you for a grand total of 7 days and you are a better man than my brothers could ever claim to be. You raised your brother; you survived Purgatory, even if you will not speak of it. For some reason, you travel the seas to save people and accept the fact that despite everything you do, you are a ‘pirate’ and that saving people doesn’t pay. When you yourself were in trouble, you helped a stranger off a beach, fed and housed him in your own quarters and then accepted him into your life. You are an incredible human being so keep your depreciative opinions to yourself.”

Dean blinked. No one had ever said anything like that to him before. And how did Cas know about Purgatory? He didn’t know Dean, he knew the façade, the front that was cocky Dean Winchester. The wanted tyrant and drunken thug. But he couldn’t bring himself to care at that point. Cas hadn’t backed away, not yet, hadn’t run for the hills. He was willing to stand by Dean based on one act of kindness and quips from his crew.

Going against his better judgement, Dean kissed him again, slower this time, he couldn’t speak; he didn’t trust his voice, or his mind, to get across what Cas had just given him. They explored each other’s mouths, lazy in their movements, Cas’ fingers rising to card through Dean’s hair, Dean’s hands sliding around Cas’ waist pulling him finitely closer.

_You cannot be serious, you are kissing him! No more fantasies now bukko._

**_It won’t last. This is us we’re talking about._ **

_Way to kill the mood._

From outside the door, he heard Sam’s voice boom. “Dean get your fat ass out here, we have a situation jerk!”

Huffing a laugh, Cas heaved away, slightly un-amused at the interruption, before leaving, Dean pecked him on the lips, ruffling his already crazed hair.

The fresh sea air hit him straight in the face. Inhaling the salty breeze, he walked over to meet his brother. “What is it, bitch?”

Sam rolled his eyes. “We don’t exactly have a plan Dean. This was meant to be a simple salt and burn, but look.” Gesturing to the beach, Dean took the telescope from Sam’s huge paws and looked through it.

 _Damn, Sammy’s right._ He sighed, rubbing his hand over his eyes. A simple salt and burn, as Bobby had put it, was usually just drug lords that needed to be dealt with. But there, on the shore, was a whole shipment. A whole crew to fight. It wouldn’t be as easy as beating up the bad guy and burning the product.

“Alright.” He turned around, his crew assembled before him. Eyes catching Cas’ he almost blushed; he stopped himself by talking to Sam. _Cock blocking moose of a brother, that always does the job._ “Rock, paper, scissors for who storms the beach?”

The grin Sam returned was one of fond memories. Dean knew this was possibly the last time for a long while that he and Sam would be on a Hunt together.

He held his hand out in a fist and Sam did the same.

“1... 2... 3.”

Fingers snapping out into scissors, Dean smirked and then grunted irritably when he saw Sam had chosen rock.

“Son of a bitch.”

Sam was shaking his head laughing, his paw grabbing Dean by the shoulder and giving it a brotherly squeeze, “Dean, always with the scissors.”

Sighing, he readdressed the crew. “Right,” he eyed them, “Jo, Cas, Ash, Vic and Garth, you’re with me. The rest of you, go with Sammy.”

Jo huffed, fake scowl on her face, “All cos you’re a predictable dumbass, that hardly seems fair Winchester.”

He smiled at her, “Just a pretty face like you I guess, eh.” Dodging her jab, he pushed her in the direction of the row boats. “Drop anchor!”

The 6 of them piled into the boat, rocking with the waves, watching as the Impala became a distant shape and the men on the beach became an imminent threat.

“Dean,” Vic asked between rowing, “What exactly is the plan here.”

Dean shrugged, “How does pot luck sound to you?”

“No, Winchester. We’re not doing that again.” Jo said defiantly from the other end of the boat, kicking out at him only to hit Garth. “Sorry.”

“S’alright. She has a point though Dean.” He added looking at Dean pointedly.

“What are you all talking about?!” Cas nearly shouted, but they were too close to shore to explain.

“Wait here, and follow my lead.” Dean instructed them and he sighed, “You know what to do if things go Funkytown.” It was usually a code word resigned for his brother, but his crew were like his family, not in blood but in bond. He figured, code words are useful in these situations too.

He recalled the first time he had used it with Sammy. The kid had told him it was a stupid code word, that was until Dean was tied to a chair and Sam had almost come in to find a man beating Dean to a pulp.

_“Make him leave.” The man spat, “Or he gets to join in on our fun.”_

_“I think Dad went to the city. I hear it’s a pretty Funkytown.”_

Ever since then, it was their code word for trouble became Funkytown. Dean missed when times were simpler for them, it had all gone a bit crazy after Dean turned 16, as if things weren’t messed up enough after he was 4.

Hopping out of the boat, he landed shoulder deep in the lapping blue ocean. Defiantly, he didn’t turn back. He waded in, emerging on shore drenched from the neck down.

No one seemed to notice him though; they were too busy unloading the product to see him advancing. That is except for Crowley.

“Ello squirrel, you came without your moose?” _Smarmy British bastard._

“And you, dickwad, came without a permit. You selling tea and tobacco there?” Dean retorted making his way to stand in front of the now assembling group of Demons.

“None of your business squirrel, why don’t you run along now?” Crowley had not moved from his perch among his possessions but Dean heard the scrape of a sword becoming unsheathed.

“Do you really want to play this game with _me_ Crowley? How about submit or die.”

 “Submit or die? What am I, French? How about resist!” He crowed.

His men sprung upon him then. Lightning reflexes and years of combat had him sword out and knee deep in Demons. Relief flushed through him as he heard the splashes and cries of his friends behind him. With as much efficiency as can be expected, they took out all the men on shore. His eyes briefly met those of Castiel, in all his might and grace, smiting the hell out of someone ahead of him. Dean slashed round, catching a vile man in the stomach.

_Keep your head in the game Winchester._

**_That is far too cheesy even for us dude._ **

By the end of it, the sand became red with blood but Crowley was nowhere in sight.

“Son of a bitch!” Dean shouted, stalking over to where the ass had been sitting as if to check his eyes weren’t deceiving him.

The sound of cackling fire and cracking wood filled his ears. Grinning to himself, he knew that meant that Sammy had got to Crowley’s vessel. He pulled a canister from his pocket and drowned the product left on shore. Striking a match, he stood back to his band of 5 and watched the drugs burn.

He became mesmerised by it, watching the flames dance and pondered how something so beautiful could be so destructive at the same time. Cas’ gaze was on him, as was the figure of Sam advancing from behind the flames.

“We good?”

“No, slimy bastard got away.” Blinking himself out of the fire, he turned away from the scene and back towards his ship. “We have no further business here. Let’s go.”

“Don’t worry Dean, you’ll get him.” Sam called him and the others collecting the weapons from the bodies of the fallen men. It was a custom for them; I mean who passes up free weapons when you don’t have an honest way of living anyway?

“Yes, we will.” Cas was behind him, fingers brushing over Dean’s own. He smiled at Cas and strode through the waves, catching his hand once it was covered by the sea.

It was a win, to have cut some of Crowley’s supply out. Though not enough, Dean frowned to himself. Not to mention the loss of life, even if those men were deranged, violent thugs. They were men, at one point, after all.

Pulling up the anchor, Dean made his way to the guitar and the figurehead. Cas tilted his head in question, but this really wasn’t something to explain – Jo probably will anyway, the annoying little sister he never wanted.

He heard Cas’ shout of surprise when he jumped the wood, but thankfully, he wasn’t followed.

Lightly, his hand brushed over the taut strings. The wood was well loved, and well used; he closed his eyes as he remembered his Mom holding the guitar, looking out at the shore from their home. Maybe that’s why fire entranced him, it did after all, clinch his Mother and almost his brother.

His hands were working over the strings, his voice carrying out over the crash of the waves.

“In the clearing stands a boxer and a fighter by his trade,  
And he carries the reminder of every glove that laid him down,  
And cut him till he cried out in his anger and his shame,  
I am leaving I am leaving but the fighter still remains.”

And the fact that Hell is surrounded by fire.


End file.
